


Winter Blues

by allthegalpals



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: Bad Weather, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, it's cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-18 11:34:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15484857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthegalpals/pseuds/allthegalpals
Summary: Patty goes home.





	Winter Blues

Patty goes home.

It’s cold and dark and the rain is turning to ice, frozen bullets that bite and sting. Her umbrella broke three blocks ago, but she was already soaked through at that point. The wind ripping her umbrella apart was a mere insult by then.

She almost wishes she’d stayed at the firehouse - almost. She’d be warm and dry, at least. But the firehouse isn’t home. There is somewhere else she prefers to seek shelter.

Another strong gust blows her wet clothes against her body, a cold slap that has her shivering, teeth gritted. Cars whoosh past, spraying grey puddles across the pavement. The sun set hours ago, the sky so dark that evening has disguised itself as night.

Patty presses on. A swipe of her MetroCard and she’s out of the wind and the rain and into the bright lights of the subway. Other commuters pack into the carriage, pushing and shuffling, coats dripping onto the floor. People talk into phones and to each other, the voices new and unfamiliar, dialects and accents she does and doesn’t recognise.

There’s only one voice she wants to hear right now.

The next stop. Old faces leave, and new faces arrive. In this city, ‘strangers’ earned its definition. A wordless, fleeting encounter with a nurse, college student or businessman and you’d never see them again. Patty’s not sure she ever truly grasped such a concept.

Five stops fly by overwhelmingly fast. New faces, new voices, new wet clothes that drip, drip, drip. One of the lights in the next carriage up flickers on and off constantly. Patty sometimes wonders how she ever lived like this for so much of her life. The subway was her home, eight hours of the day, five days a week, forty-nine weeks of the year.

Not anymore. She grips the handrail tighter, fingers numbing and nails pale blue.

Her stop, finally. Out of the bright lights and back to the sidewalk. Back to the wind and the rain and the traffic and the crowds. One damp foot in front of the other. One block to go.

Four digits pressed into the apartment building keypad. 3759. March, July, May, September, is what Patty thinks every time she punches the numbers in. The door buzzes, opens and clicks shut. Out of the wind and the rain, again. But this time is the last time.

The floorboards creak and murmur, they always do, unhappy about being dripped on. The second-to-last step on the third flight of stairs is taller than the rest and Patty adjusts her feet accordingly. Erin, who has lived here just as long, either hasn’t noticed or forgets daily, because she trips over the extra height every time.

The key slips between her fingers when she turns it in the lock and finally the door opens, quiet and unobtrusive. Patty slips inside and leans back against the door.

Erin hasn’t seen her yet. She’s stood at the kitchen counter, stirring a saucepan and humming along to a song on the radio. She’s wearing grey sweatpants and a navy t-shirt with their logo on, her hair loosely tied back in a ponytail. She’s off in her own world, as she often is, and Patty’s never really sure where she goes.

A wall of warmth and affection washes over her, outside now a distant memory.

‘Hey.’

Erin startles a little and turns. ‘Hey. I didn’t hear you come in.’

‘I know.’

‘How long have you been stood there?’

‘Long enough to fall in love with you again.’

Erin turns back to the saucepan. Patty knows she’s either blushing or trying to regain her senses after being shaken out of her thoughts. Probably both.

‘I made your favourite.’

Patty wanders over to inspect, pressing a light kiss to Erin’s cheek upon reaching her. ‘Tomato and chorizo pasta bake,’ she observes, inhaling the scent deeply.

‘Did you have a nice swim?’

Despite her current predicament, Patty smiles. Erin’s back in this world, now. Sometimes she takes a little while to snap back. ‘Mm-hm. Made friends with a couple rats in the sewer.’

Erin gently wipes the running mascara from under Patty’s eyes. ‘And a panda, I see. Here, let me take your coat. Why don’t you go take a hot shower? I don’t want you to get sick.’

‘And dinner…’

‘Will be ready in twenty minutes. Go, please. You’re creating a puddle.’

Patty hesitates. ‘You promise not to eat it all without me?’

‘No promises.’

 

 

Patty’s never been happier to have a hot shower – apart from that time she got slimed all down her chest thanks to a ghost flying directly overhead. For a few minutes she simply sits down, exhausted, letting the hot water hit. Slowly, the feeling returns to her fingers and toes. Lethargic, she scrubs slowly with her coconut body wash. Reluctantly, Patty turns the shower off and grabs her towel. If it wasn’t for the promise of that pasta bake, she might be inclined to fall asleep in the shower.

She’s about to dig out a pair of pyjamas from their shared chest of drawers, then spots the ones Erin’s already put out for her. They’re cream coloured and covered in musical notes. Erin, with her geeky Star Wars pyjamas, wanted Patty to have a nerdy pair of her own, then realised it would be incredibly difficult to find any with ancient Egypt, the Roman Empire or even books printed on them. So, seeing as Patty liked music, she’d settled for musical notes. Patty, _very secretly_ , liked them.

They’re draped over the radiator, warming. Sometimes, Erin’s so distant that Patty forgets she’s there. Sometimes Erin’s thoughtfulness leaves her speechless.

Patty puts the musical note pyjamas on and heads back to the kitchen.

Erin beams at the sight of her. ‘You put them on?! I knew you loved them, deep down.’

‘Baby, if you went to all this trouble to cook for me, then the least I can do is wear these. I’m wearing these because I love _you,_ not the pyjamas.’

‘I don’t believe you,’ Erin whispers, laughing. ‘Are they nice and warm?’

‘Toasty, thank you.’ She leans over Erin’s shoulder to glance at the food. ‘That smells _so_ good.’

‘It tastes pretty good, too.’

‘I know something else of yours that tastes pretty good. No cooking required.’

Erin flushes pink and clears her throat. ‘Miss Tolan, please remove your mind from the gutter.’

‘No promises.’

 

 

Tomato and chorizo pasta bake is Patty’s favourite for a reason.

‘Wow,’ she groans, hastily shovelling in another mouthful. ‘I’m gonna wife you so hard one day.’

‘For my cooking abilities?’ Erin smiles and checks her watch. ‘I had no idea the clocks had gone back to 1952.’

‘Don't talk to me about the 1950s, baby.’ Brown eyes meet blue, teasing, playful. ‘How was your day? How did the meeting go?’

‘We made _some_ progress. Abby thinks we might actually get to speak at the main event for the convention this year.’

‘Hey, that’s so good! I’m proud of you.’

The words cover Erin like a warm embrace. ‘Thank you. What about yours?’

Patty huffs. ‘Pretty bad. Unproductive, long, wet and cold. Then I came home to my gorgeous girlfriend in our lovely apartment and ate my favourite meal.’

‘I’m glad your day got better.’

‘ _You_ make my day better.’

  

 

‘Is this comfortable?’

‘Nope,’ Patty wheezes. ‘Elbow in the kidney.’

‘Shoot, sorry.’ Erin readjusts, settling into a new position.

Patty breathes a sigh of relief. ‘Do you literally sharpen your elbows?’

‘Wouldn’t you like to know.’

They’re lying on the sofa, with Erin on the inside, her favoured place, half-lying on Patty and resting her head on her shoulder. A purple fluffy blanket is pulled up to their waists, just enough to keep their legs warm.

‘I’ve missed you, lately,’ Erin mutters, tracing pyjama musical notes with her finger.

‘I haven’t gone anywhere.’

‘I know. Just… I feel like we’re not _together_ together as much as I want.’

‘Because we work long hours and mostly see each other in a work environment and when we don’t we’re usually exhausted? It’s difficult – juggling the two. Maybe you could make a little planner of couple-y things we can do each week.’

‘You know I love planning.’

‘I do.’

‘Shall I schedule us in for weekly sex?’

Patty laughs. ‘Hell, no. Four times a week.’

‘So demanding,’ Erin says, leaning her head up to kiss Patty on the lips, softly. ‘Don’t frown, I’m only teasing you.’

‘Oh, I know you’re a tease, baby. You remember New Year’s Eve, don’t you?’

‘I remember you enjoyed yourself… eventually.’

‘ _Hmm_.’

Erin drops her head back to Patty’s chest. ‘I can hear your heart beating.’

‘Be sure to tell me if it stops.’

‘I will.’

Patty frowns again, suddenly this time. She’s about to ask Erin where her wet clothes went - she dumped them on their bedroom floor before getting in the shower – and hasn’t seen them since. Then she hears the dryer spinning, a quiet hum she’s surprised she didn’t notice before. Mystery solved.

‘You know, I realised something earlier. I was thinking about how crazy New York can be – I’ve lived here my whole life and every day there’s something new or different. You don’t become familiar with the city, you become familiar with the change. When I was younger, I enjoyed the change. Now it can be unsettling. I need a place where things slow down, where they stay still for a little while. That’s when I realised – it’s not a place, but a person. For me, that person is you.’

 _This_ is where she belongs, with Erin. This is her comfort zone, her safe place, this is where she can relax, let things pass her by. This is familiarity, where things don’t change, only grow, and slowly enough for her to keep up with.

‘I feel the same. You’re my home, now. You make everything quiet.’

Their respective homes they’d built in each other served different purposes, she understood this. Patty needs shelter from the chaos around her. Erin needs shelter from the chaos in her own head.

‘The eye of the storm,’ Patty whispers.

Freezing rain batters against the windows, a fork of white lightning briefly illuminating the dark sky, followed by a low rumble. Two miles away, by Patty’s approximation. A gust of wind blows so hard that the windows shake. Traffic blares, sirens sound and engines rev below them, a cacophony of noise that Patty finds hard to believe she was recently swept up in. It all seems so distant, now, so far away.

The lamps glow yellow and orange, soft and mellow, throwing warm light over the walls and furniture. One of them flickers every 14 seconds. Patty counted so she could tell Erin it flickered every 14 seconds when she finally noticed - she hasn’t, yet, and it’s been two months since it started malfunctioning.

Patty traces the pattern of freckles on Erin’s upper right arm in their familiar ‘w’ shape. _Cassiopeia’s chair_ , she’d told Erin, then described the story of the vain queen who’d been banished to the starry sky by Poseidon. Patty supposed she’d never know whether Cassiopeia truly was more beautiful than a sea nymph, as she proclaimed to be, but in her eyes, Erin was more beautiful than all the sea nymphs and Cassiopeia put together.

Erin pulls the blanket higher and curls into Patty’s shoulder, breathing softly against her neck.

The clock ticks, the dryer spins and the radiators hum.

Patty comes home.

 

**Author's Note:**

> writing this during peak summer was a blast.  
> thoughts?


End file.
